


That Garter & Bouquet Toss Fic

by WhoInWhoville



Series: I love AUs [9]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Cousin Mo - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Garter Toss, Romance, Silly, bouquet toss, bridesmaid au, wedding au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-13 00:36:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10502778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoInWhoville/pseuds/WhoInWhoville
Summary: "I caught the garter, you caught the bouquet, now we're supposed to dance"





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [captaingrahamcr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/captaingrahamcr/gifts).



> Fic prompt. Originally posted 5/13/2015. Rescued by the lovely captaingrahamcr.

“Alriiiiight!” screeches the DJ. “Clear the dance floor, ‘cos it’s time for the Battle of the Babes, aka, the bow-kay toss! Come on now all you single ladies, don’t be shy, don’t be shy.” 

“Fan-bloody-tastic,” Rose mutters into her cup of treacly-sweet, pink champagne punch. She deflates in her chair, hoping to make herself disappear, but all eyes are on the head table, and she is Bridesmaid Five of Seven, after all. She has no place to hide. 

Bridesmaid Four elbows Rose in the ribs. “Go on then. Get on out there, catch that bouquet. You’re the only single bridesmaid after all. I caught the bouquet last time I was a bridesmaid. Paid off, too.” She wiggles her hand in Rose’s face. The enormous diamond in Number Four’s engagement ring flashes as a point of light bounces off of the disco ball, hitting the rock just right. 

Rose pastes on a smile. The chair screeches as she pushes away from the table. She walks on tiptoe, nervous that she will catch a four-inch heel on the hem of the slightly too-long, carnation pink gown. 

_Single Ladies_ is now echoing off the walls of the reception hall, and the DJ is doing a surprisingly good imitation of Beyoncé. Rose makes her way to a spot on the outskirts of the scant group of females — half a dozen of them are tweens, and Rose is one of the four women above the age of fourteen, and the other three are on the verge of engagement. Beautiful Bride Maureen — aka Cousin Mo — scans the group of (mostly giggling) women and girls, points at Rose, and winks cheekily. 

“Don’t you dare,” Rose mouths. 

Mo’s eyes flash devilishly. She turns her back to the group, and launches the bouquet over her head with much more effort than necessary. Rose shields her face with her hands as the pink and white missile flies towards her. Too late now. It’s in her hands. Within seconds, her cousin has Rose wrapped in a hug. 

“Love ya, Cousin Rose.” Mo kisses Rose’s cheek, her painted pink lips leaving a perfect imprint of the smooch. 

“Ta,” says Rose with a sigh. “It’s lovely, really.” She looks down at the nosegay, and then buries her nose in the tightly-packed fragrant pink and white rosebuds. 

“Don’t be too mad, Rose. You’re my favorite cousin. I just want to see ya happy,” says Mo. 

“I am happy! And why are we talking about my relationship status at your wedding?” Rose raises her eyebrows and laughs. “Go on, stop fussing over me. You have a reception to enjoy.” Playfully, Rose shoves her younger cousin towards her handsome groom. 

The other six bridesmaids — every single one of them is either married or engaged — encircle Rose and begin to tease her mercilessly, pointing at various single men, daring her to introduce herself. 

“Oh, there’s a candidate,” says Two. 

“He’s wearing a pinkie ring, and his shirt has ruffles,” says Rose. 

“How about that one?” Six points at a table towards the back of the reception hall. 

“Right...” drawls Rose. “He’s about fourteen, and is gorging himself on wedding cake.” 

The women laugh, and then disperse. Rose gulps down one more cup of punch, and then heads to the loo. 

oOo 

“What’d ya do that for?” squeals John, dramatically rubbing the spot on his ribs that Donna has just assaulted with her elbow. 

“You told me you were going out for a bit of fresh air. You’ve been gone for over forty minutes!” 

“So? I don’t want to be here anyway. I don’t know these people. Remind me. Whose wedding is this?” 

Donna rolls her eyes. “You are exasperating. Robert and I grew up together. Next door neighbor. I’ve known Maureen for years. Now go on, get out there.” 

The heavy thumping bass of that 80’s song _Oh Yeah_ elicits a groan deep from John’s throat. “I’m not going to try and catch the garter, Donna. I don’t even know these people. Don’t know what possessed me to actually let you drag me here in the first place.” 

“Because you’re my best mate, and you need me remind you to leave work once in a while,” she says. “You go out there, or you won’t hear the end of it. There are only about ten single men at this wedding reception, and half of ‘em are under the age of consent, and the other half are leaning on their walkers.” 

“Donna...” The tone of his voice offers a clear warning for her to back off. 

“Spaceman...” She gives as good as she gets. “Get on that dance floor. Now. I promised Robert and Maureen that I’d bring an eligible bachelor to this wedding.” 

“Who says I’m eligible?” His eyes are flashing, and his lips are pressed into a thin line as he juts his chin defiantly, trying to intimidate his best friend. 

“Oh please. Tell me the last time you had dinner with a woman someplace that didn’t make you carry your food on a tray back to your table.” 

“I just had dinner with someone last week, thank you very much.” 

“Oh please! That doesn’t count. Jack tricked you into having dinner with that weird Margaret woman.” 

He got a funny look on his face. “Did I tell you I think she tried to drug me? I swear I saw her open a trick ring, and pour some powder into my glass of wine.” 

“You are kidding me?” Donna gasped. “Then that definitely doesn’t count as a date.” 

“I didn’t say I was dating, I merely said I wasn’t eligible.”

“You talk and talk, and I have no idea what you are even saying,” guffaws Donna. 

“It’s simple. Being single does not mean I’m eligible, now does it, hmmm?” John crosses his arms. “I’m practically a hermit, Donna. All I do is work. Work is my life. I’m not eligible. I’m not a candidate to offer anyone a decent relationship.” 

“I’m not asking you to get down on your knee and ask some woman to marry you! And maybe it’s time you come out of that cave of a lab, and stop being a hermit! Come on John, it’s just a silly tradition.” 

John grunts. “I like my lab. My lab is nice. It’s comfortable and cosy and has lovely mood lighting.” 

Donna pauses for a moment. “You know the blonde bridesmaid? The one you were ogling the entire wedding?” 

“I don’t ogle.”

“You were so ogling,” teased Donna. 

“So I’m not allowed to appreciate a brilliant smile on a good-looking woman?” he humoured her. 

Donna grins. “Well, the bloke who catches the garter gets to dance with her, ‘cos she caught the bridal bouquet. And I know you can dance. Saw you at the Christmas party dancing with Astrid.” 

“Got you some cake,” says Shaun as he sits down next to his wife. He places a slice of cake in front of Donna, but before she has a chance to lift her fork, John has already palmed the dessert, and shoved the entire thing into his mouth. 

“Cammm’t make me go out mare mow, my mouff iff full,” he mumbles through dark chocolate sponge and vanilla buttercream. 

“Rude.” Donna points at him. She leaves the table, heads to the DJ’s station, and grabs his crystal bedazzled microphone. “Do we have a Dr. John Smith in the house? Doctor Smith, paging Doctor Smith, your presence is required on the dance floor,” says the ginger. 

“Donna!” whinges John. 

His fiery friend puts one hand on her hip. “Dr. John Smith, get your skinny little bum off of that chair and do as you’re told. And if you don’t catch that thing, I’ll call in sick all next week and you’ll have to file your own bloody paperwork.” 

The reception guests break into hysterics, and someone starts to chant, “Doctor, doctor, doctor,” and the sound quickly surges as everyone joins in. 

John wipes his mouth with a pink paper serviette, wads it up, and throws it halfway across the table. 

“Sorry mate, you know she always gets her way,” says Shaun, apologetically. “Never shoulda fought it.” 

oOo 

“There you are! What are you hiding in the loo for?” asks Bridesmaid Number Two. “Been looking everywhere for you. The photographer needs you for one more picture.” 

“Sorry. Just needed to get away from the noise for a bit.” Sighing, Rose stands from the ornate velvet settee. “But what picture? Thought we got all of those done before.” 

“You caught the bouquet. Mo wants a photo of you with the bloke who caught the garter. Don’t forget the bouquet.” Number Two nods at the side table. 

“Oh.” Rose retrieves the pretty bouquet. “I suppose that means I gotta dance with him, too. Who caught it? Robert’s twelve year old nephew or the guy with the ruffled shirt?” 

“Neither. Some friend of a friend of the groom’s family. He’s fit, too. Not that I have eyes for anyone but Mickey, mind. But he is gorgeous.” 

“Really?” Rose perks up a bit.

“Completely gorgeous,” says Martha. “Wait ’til you see his hair.” 

oOo 

“Hi,” says Rose, smiling up at the tall man with playfully tousled hair. “So you caught the garter then?” 

“Yep.” John twirls the satin and lace circlet on his pointer finger. “You didn’t catch the spectacle?” 

“I sorta slipped away after I caught the bouquet. Spectacle, yeah? Tell me what I missed.” 

“Places please,” orders the photographer. “Okay Garter Boy, lift up Bouquet Girl’s skirt, and slide the garter on.” 

“What?” John and Rose ask simultaneously.

“Since when is that a thing?” Rose asks her cousin, incredulous. 

“Oh, it’s a newer tradition. Might not have seen it at any weddings around here yet. It’s from the States. Saw it in a magazine,” replies Maureen. “Cute, yeah?” 

“Real cute,” mutters John.

Rose rolls her eyes. “My cousin Mo is so dead,” she whispers. 

“Dr. Smith, go down on one knee, please.” 

Donna’s words about not having to go down on bended knee come to mind, and he shakes his head. He raises one eyebrow at Rose, but he complies, and then looks up at her from his position on bended knee. “I’m John, by the way. Figure you should know the name of the bloke who’s about to slide a garter up your leg.” 

Rose offers him a wide smile. “I’m Rose. Rose Tyler.” 

“Show us those gorgeous legs of yours, Rose! I want you to lift up your skirt and balance on one foot,” orders Cousin Mo, slurring slightly. She hides a giggle behind her hand. 

“What?” Rose protest. 

“Oh come on, don’t tell me you’re embarrassed. Those leotards of yours show more skin.” 

“I was ten the last time I wore a leotard, Mo,” Rose cries. 

“My wedding, my rules,” replies the bride. 

Rose rolls her eyes, but complies. Gingerly, she lifts her skirt. “Do I look like a pink flamingo?” she asks the man at her feet. 

John looks up at her and smiles. He stretches the garter as widely as he can, and eases it over her foot. He’s trying to avoid skin to skin contact, and he successfully guides it all the way up to Rose’s knee. 

But then Rose loses her balance. 

“Oh!” exclaims Rose as John wraps his arms around her exposed legs, successfully preventing her from losing her balance. 

The pink chiffon of her gown covers his head, and his face is firmly planted against her bare thighs. 

The room explodes with hoots, hollers and cat calls.  
John successfully extracts himself from the soft pink chiffon. His face burns. “Sorry. I tried to be a gentleman.” 

“It’s okay, I lost my balance on these stupid shoes.” She smiles down at him. “But you can let go now.” 

John blushes even more vividly, and releases Rose’s thighs from his hug and he stands. 

The photographer studies the screen of his digital camera and smiles. “Great photos! Just brilliant! Make sure you ask the bride and bridegroom for copies. The looks on your faces! Absolutely priceless! Would you mind if I use one or two of these in my sample book?” asks the photographer. 

Rose laughs nervously as she watches John tug his ear. 

She breaks the heated silence that has built between them. “That wasn’t half embarrassing.” 

“I’m so sorry,” John apologises again. 

Rose presses her lips together, but she can’t stop herself, and she bursts into laughter. It’s infectious, and soon John Smith is laughing along with her. 

The DJ announces that it’s time for the bachelor and bachelorette dance. 

“Shall we, Dame Rose?” asks John, gallantly offering his hand.

“I think we shall, Sir Doctor.”

The music starts. 

“Really? _Another One Bites the Dust_?” Rose snorts. 

But then the music changes. “I was just teasing,” says the DJ. “How about this.” 

“Birds flying high. You know how I feel. Sun in the sky. You know how I feel. Reeds driftin' on by. You know how I feel. It's a new dawn. It's a new day. It's a new life. For me. And I'm feeling good...” 

oOo 

The bride sits down next to the fiery redhead who had commandeered the microphone from the DJ. 

They high-five. 


End file.
